Marcella--Lord, what's the use of words? I'm getting your
trick of not being able to find words for what I mean. But you wait.
Just you wait. There's a new Louis born to-night, in a funny little
Nonconformist chapel. Look at him, girlie--can't you see he's
different?"
They found a cab and drove down to the quay again. Heedless of the
people in the streets he kissed her again and again and did not stop
talking for an instant.
"You know, the very fact of being married alone is going to do wonders
for me. It's going to give me a grip on things. I've been an outcast,
dear--I've never known, when I've been this side of the world, where my
next bed or my next meal is coming from. But to have a wife--and we'll
have a home and everything--why, you can't think what it means."
When they reached the quay he left Marcella in the cab, telling her he
would only be two minutes. She watched him vanish in the shadow of the
Customs shed. A moment later he was back.
"I hate to leave you, even for a minute. I must have one more kiss. Oh,
my darling, if you could only guess what it means to me to know that you
love me, that you are waiting here for me. You've never been a throwout,
a waster, or you'd realize just what you mean to me."
Then he was gone, and she lay back, her eyes closed, dreaming. She felt
very safe, very secure.
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